


After The Fire

by Hay_Bails



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: 2016 AU, AU, Eventual Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive, Gen, London, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:31:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hay_Bails/pseuds/Hay_Bails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>London 2016. Ciel Phantomhive has lost his parents, his home, and his eye. A mysterious man named Sebastian saves him from life on the streets, but will their acquaintance blossom into something more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            The boy hugged the shadows as he walked. It was very late, and the sodium yellow lamps cast a halfhearted glow on the street beside him. He hoped their gloom would hide the telltale signs – the deep red circles on his collarbones, the occasional bite mark on his neck or arm.

            The catcalls followed him. It never mattered how empty the street was, or the hour of night. A couple of whistles and kissing noises greeted him from a second story window. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts, bowed his head, and walked a little bit faster.

            “Where you going, love?” a new voice rasped as he turned the corner into an alley. A hand reached out from the shadows. “Bit late for a young’un to be out, innit?”

            The hand grasped the boy’s arm tightly. He struggled against it, but he was young and weak.

            “I’m off for the night,” the brunette explained, sounding much calmer than he felt. “You’ll get your turn tomorrow.”

            “Ah, such good English,” the nasty voice purred. “We got us a learned one.”

            The voice belonged to an old, grizzled man, with a gray beard poking from his chin like a porcupine’s quills. He smelled strongly of whiskey, and the boy wrinkled his nose.

            “Please let go of my arm,” he asked.

            “And deprive meself a bit o’ fun? Not bloody likely.”

            A couple of knowing chuckles sounded from the alley behind the old man. The boy glanced over, counting at least three other figures. He swallowed, knowing when he was beaten. The shadows converged around him.

            “All right. Do whatever you want. Just… please don’t touch my face.”

            “Ah! What a good sport, eh?” the drunk man’s breath trickled across his ear. “Tell you what. Since you been so cooperative, we won’t touch your pretty face one bit. All right?”

            The boy inhaled, about to respond, when suddenly the old man wasn’t there anymore.

            “Oi! What was that for?” the drunk muttered, clutching angrily at the side of his face.

            “You won’t be touching this boy at all,” a new voice said. A much younger man had materialized by the boy’s side, seemingly out of nowhere. He retracted his arm, dusting off his knuckles where they had made contact with the old drunk’s face. “Does anybody care to argue?”

            The other degenerates eyed this new character with distaste, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. They slunk back into the darkness, muttering to themselves. The drunk crawled back to his corner.

            “Are you all right?” the mysterious man asked.

            “Yeah, I’m… fine.”

            “What’s your name?”

            “Ciel,” the boy said after a moment’s hesitation.

            “Sebastian.”

            “Thank you, Sebastian,” Ciel said, taking a moment to size him up. He was tall, with glossy black hair that fell into his red eyes, and rock solid muscles. He wore a black tank top, and smelled of liquor – though whatever he was drinking didn’t seem to affect him much.

            “Not a problem,” Sebastian responded kindly. “What’s a kid your age doing out at this hour?”

            Ciel shrugged.

            “Do your parents know where you are?”

            “My parents are dead.” It was the first time he had said those words aloud, and they tasted foreign on his tongue.

            “Sorry,” Sebastian said. It sounded sincere. “Recent?”

            “Three weeks ago. Our house burned down.”

            “Ah. So the eyepatch?”

            “Yeah,” Ciel replied, rubbing self-consciously at the side of his face. The tape attaching the patch to his skin was smooth, but it was peeling off.

            “Sorry,” Sebastian said again. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So, you, um, need a place to sleep?”

            “Have you got one?” Ciel asked doubtfully.

            Sebastian huffed a chuckle. “You’ve just met me and you already trust me enough to sleep at my place?”

            “It’s four in the morning, you’re wearing rags, and you’re drunk. I highly doubt you have a ‘place,’” Ciel accused. “Though I do appreciate you punching that man for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

            Sebastian studied him thoughtfully. “If you’re serious, and you do need a place to sleep, then follow me.” He turned and walked out of the alley, not looking back. The boy eyed the grizzly drunk man who still sat in the corner, and made his decision.

            “Hey, wait up!” He jogged a bit to catch up. Sebastian glanced at him and kept walking. “Where are we going?”

            “I told you. My place.”

            They walked a couple of blocks, turning onto a busier street. Sebastian stopped in front of a sleek grey high-rise, pulling a keycard out of his front pocket.

            “Seriously?” Ciel murmured.

            “Don’t judge a person by their appearance,” Sebastian said. The keycard reader on the door beeped, and Ciel found himself suddenly indoors. The older man walked him to the elevator, and pressed the button for the top floor.

            Ciel let out a breath as the door slid open silently. The apartment was sparsely furnished, but the view was spectacular. Windows covered every wall. London seemed warm and welcoming from this distance, he thought. The river twinkled pleasantly below.

            “So, what are you, some kind of millionaire?”

            Sebastian did not answer. He walked over to the bar, fished around in a cabinet, and poured out a glass of expensive-looking scotch for himself. He picked up a second glass and held it out. “Want?”

            Ciel considered for a moment. It would be rude, he assumed, to decline an offer of hospitality. However, he had only had alcohol once before, and he was not prepared to get drunk with someone he had only just met. He shook his head, and Sebastian put the glass away.

            The raven-haired man downed his scotch in one go and leaned against the counter. “There’s a couch here, and a bed down the hall. There’s one upstairs too, if that’s more comfortable. Sleep wherever you like.”

            Ciel walked over to the couch and sat on the arm. “Why are you being so generous?”

            Sebastian’s hair drooped across his face. He looked out the window. “Call it karma.”

            “You believe in karma?”

            “I believe in fate.”

            “Will you kill me in my sleep?”

            “Possible, but unlikely. Want some blankets?”

            “A blanket would be nice,” he admitted. Ciel decided, illogically, that he trusted this strange man.

            “Let me get you one,” Sebastian said. He pushed himself up off the counter and walked down the hallway. Ciel listened to him rummaging around in a closet. He returned a few moments later with two folded fleece blankets in hand. He tossed them unceremoniously onto the couch. “The bath is down the hall to the left. The pantry is a bit empty, but feel free to eat whatever you can find. I’ll be at the end of the hall if you need anything.”

            “Thank you,” Ciel said, wondering once again at the kindness of this man.

            “Not at all,” Sebastian said. He looked wistfully out the window again before slinking back down the hall to his room.

            Ciel took off his shoes and laid down on the couch, covering himself with one blanket and using the other as a pillow. He crossed his arms under his head, resolving not to go to sleep, just in case Sebastian decided to change his mind and murder him.

            He was asleep within minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

            Ciel woke to the smell of something cooking. He nuzzled into the fabric of the couch for just a second before resigning himself to the day. He sat up and stretched his arms. Sunlight streamed unapologetically through the huge windows, and London glittered brightly all around him.

            “Morning,” Sebastian’s voice greeted him. He turned around to see him standing in the kitchen, frying something in a pan. “Salmon with mint garnish. Hungry?”

            “Yeah, actually,” Ciel admitted. His stomach made some tiny noises as if to prove his point. The salmon smelled heavenly.

            Sebastian scooped a slice of salmon out onto a plate, and topped it with a few drops of lemon juice and a couple of green leaves. “Here,” he said, handing it to Ciel. “There will be scones in a minute.”

            Ciel took the plate into his lap and stared at it. “Where did you learn how to cook?” he asked, taking a bite into his mouth. The fish melted against his tongue. “This is amazing.”

            Sebastian gave a lopsided grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

            “I’ve served some important people. I know a few tricks.”

            “That’s very vague,” Ciel observed, taking a huge bite.

            “I’m a discreet person.”

            “Hm,” Ciel said, distracted by his food. It really was very good, he thought to himself. Maybe Sebastian was a chef? The man served up another plate of salmon and pulled on an oven mitt. He lifted six scones out of the oven, setting them onto the stovetop to cool. He took his plate of salmon and joined Ciel on the sofa, taking a bite. He made a face.

            “Too much mint.”

            “I think it’s perfect.”

            “Really?”

            “I mean to be fair, I haven’t eaten in a couple of days.”

            “Neither have I.”

            Ciel looked up at the other man curiously.

            “Why?”

            Sebastian ignored him, taking another few bites of fish.

            “Why haven’t you?”

            “Why do you think?”

            Ciel finished off his salmon, scraping the plate for the last few crumbs.

            Sebastian set his plate down on the arm of the sofa. He turned and leaned in dangerously close. His voice was velvet, but his eyes were fire.

            “I think the world is a hard place, and I think you know that. But you’re not afraid of it – quite the opposite. The world is trying to hurt you,” Sebastian breathed, lips mere centimeters from Ciel’s own. “And I think you like it.”

            He leaned back, retrieving his plate and continuing to eat as if nothing had happened. Ciel could feel goosebumps prickling all along his arms. Had he been wrong to trust this man? Suddenly feeling very self-conscious, he took his empty plate and stood, walking to the kitchen and placing it in the sink.

            “I’m going to use the restroom,” he stated to no one in particular, and walked down the hallway. Sebastian made no response.

            The boy locked the door behind him and faced himself in the mirror. His heart was hammering. Had Sebastian almost kissed him? Why did he feel this flustered? It wasn’t as if he had feelings for the man in the other room. He was just some person who he had known for less than a day. A stranger.

            Ciel took a few deep breaths to calm himself, turned on the sink, and tried to ready himself for the day. Sebastian had set out a new toothbrush and some towels. Ciel brushed his teeth gratefully – he hadn’t in ages – but for the first time he was beginning to feel apprehensive. What did Sebastian want from him? Sex? He frowned, swishing some water in his mouth. A lot of people wanted sex, but it usually wasn’t such a big deal. They took what they wanted, paid Ciel, and left it at that.

            And Ciel didn’t mind. Sure, there were creeps, like the drunk men last night. But they weren’t so bad, really, when he thought about it in perspective. He was alive, and he was making money, and nobody asked any questions.

            But Sebastian… Sebastian was different. He didn’t seem to want anything. Not really. So why was he trying to intimidate him? Ciel dried his face, took another breath, and opened the door back into the hallway.

            “I’d offer you a scone, but you’ve just brushed your teeth,” Sebastian said, standing behind the kitchen counter again. He was placing the scones on a rack to finish cooling.

            “It’s fine,” Ciel said, shaking his head. “Listen, thank you for letting me stay here, I really appreciate it. But I should get going.”

            “That’s fine,” Sebastian said. “May I ask where?”

            Ciel hesitated for far too long. Sebastian chuckled wryly.

            “No house, no money, no job… how old are you, anyway?”

            “Sixteen,” Ciel lied.

            “No, you aren’t.”

            “So what if I’m not?” The boy frowned.

            Sebastian placed the last of the scones on the rack and sighed. He leaned back against the counter and faced his guest.

            “You think that I want to have sex with you.”

            “I don’t know what you want.”

            The raven-haired man came closer. He wasn’t as tall as Ciel had initially thought. He reached out a hand, caressing the right side of the boy’s face with his fingertips. Very gently, he grasped the edge of the worn-out tape, and slowly peeled off the eye patch. The light was painful, and Ciel instinctively reached up with a hand to cover his injured eye.

            “A good prostitute should always know what people want,” Sebastian whispered. “And you remind me of someone.” He hovered his hand over Ciel’s forehead before lowering it again. He cleared his throat and backed away. “That tape was worn out anyway. Wait one moment, I have some gauze in the bath.”

            Sebastian vanished. Ciel waited uncomfortably, crossing his left arm across his stomach. His right hand remained fastened to his cheek. Was he really that obvious?

            When his host returned, he was carrying a red first-aid box in one hand. He knelt in front of the boy and opened the box.

            “That burn looks pretty nasty. You’ll probably have a scar, but you can still see in that eye. Am I right?”

            Ciel nodded slowly. “How do you know that?”

            “You reached up to shield it from the light. You wouldn’t have done that if you had been blinded in that eye. The light wouldn’t have made any difference.” He took a long strip of gauze and folded it into a rectangle. “That should do. Close your eyes and move your hand.”

            Ciel frowned, but did as he was told. He could feel a gentle pressure as Sebastian pressed the gauze onto his face. Then there was a ripping sound, and he could feel tape being stuck around the edges of the gauze.

            “There,” Sebastian said. “That ought to do it, at least for a couple of days. Did the doctor say how long it should be left on?”

            “I never said there was a doctor,” Ciel said. He opened his other eye and blinked once or twice. The gauze wasn’t uncomfortable.

            “You have no money. Medical tape doesn’t materialize from nowhere.” Sebastian stood, gathering his first-aid materials.

            “Are you a doctor?” Ciel asked, determined to find out more about this strange man. Sebastian gave that wry, lopsided grin again. He shook his head.

            “Would you tell me if you were?” Ciel asked, now doubtful.

            “What do you think?”


	3. Chapter 3

            “I think you’re hiding something,” Ciel said brazenly.

            Sebastian smirked. He walked a few steps and placed his med kit on the counter. “Oh? Pray tell, what do you think I am hiding?”

            “Drugs?” Ciel hazarded.

            Sebastian laughed outright. He looked wistfully out the enormous window, across the Thames. The morning was quickly melting its way into afternoon.

            “Does having money imply having drugs?”

            “Not necessarily, but having drugs implies having money,” Ciel argued. “And if you were in a lawful profession, you wouldn’t try to mask it. I think.”

            The raven took a long look at his guest. The boy was proving to be smarter than he appeared. “On the right track, certainly. Drugs, though?”

            “Just a guess.”

            “Do I look like a drug dealer to you?”

            Ciel supposed he didn’t. “Not really.”

            Sebastian walked slowly back to Ciel. He placed his forefinger under the boy’s chin, lifting his head to meet his eyes. The touch was gentle.

            “I would think that a whore would recognize another whore. Wouldn’t you?”

            Ciel blushed fiercely. “I am _not_ a whore.”

            Sebastian’s eyes trailed pointedly down his body, his gaze lingering on the short shorts and the marks of various mouths upon his skin. Ciel had never felt so naked in his life. He crossed his arms across his chest.

            “What do you prefer? Prostitute?”

            The boy grimaced. “I don’t really have a name for it.”

            “I myself prefer ‘escort.’” The man’s long finger traced Ciel’s skin for a few centimeters before pulling away. “Or ‘servant,’ on occasion.”

            “Why are you telling me this?”

            “You asked. And because, my dear Ciel, you will get eaten alive if you go back out on those streets alone.”

            A flash of anger coursed through the boy’s veins. Who did this guy think he was? “I don’t need your sympathy to succeed.”

            A long finger – the same that had just gently caressed his chin – poked him forcefully in the gut. “Your ribs are visible through your skin. How long until you starve? What happens when you are pickpocketed, and are too weak to stop it?”

            He had a point. Damn him.

            “So what? What other option do I have? I have no home. I have no money. My body is my only asset.”

            “And you are wise to use it, in my opinion.”

            What a backward compliment, Ciel thought. “That’s not an answer.”

            Sebastian stared at him for a long time, thinking hard about something. “I suppose what I am trying to say is that you are welcome to stay here, if you choose.”

            Ciel bristled. “And why would I want that?”

            “I never said you wanted it.”

            “Then why did you offer?”

            “It seems a practical solution. And, as I said before… you remind me of someone.”

             “Who?” Ciel asked, begrudgingly allowing curiosity to get the better of him.

            “Myself.”

            Ciel wasn’t really sure what to say to that, so he ignored it for the moment.

            “Why should I trust you?”

            “You shouldn’t. Don’t ever trust anybody.”

            “What would you want from me in return?”

            “Nothing.” Sable hair shook slowly back and forth.

            “Come on,” the boy argued. “There has to be a catch.”

            “No catch.”

            “I mean… okay. Let’s assume, hypothetically, that I say yes.” Ciel shifted his stance, placing his weight on his left leg. “I can’t pay you rent. I’m too young to work at any business legally. So what do you want from me?”

            “I don’t want anything.”

            “Everyone wants something.”

            Sebastian glanced out the window again and collected his thoughts. He leaned against the couch. “It gets quiet up here,” he said cryptically.

            “So… what? What does that mean? I’d be your, your sex toy? Locked up in your tower for your amusement?”

            “You assume everything leads to sex,” Sebastian chuckled, amused.

            “Everything has, so far.”

            Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. A few stray strands remained stubbornly draped across his face. “So let me get this straight. I offer you food, lodging, and a new start, and you are prepared to turn it all down because you don’t want to have sex with me?”

            Ciel shifted uncomfortably. “I never said I was turning it down.”

            “And I never said I wanted to have sex.”

            “Then what _do_ you want?” Ciel was beginning to get incredibly frustrated. The carrot dangled tantalizingly in front of his eyes – so where was the stick?

            Sebastian sighed through his nose. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

            Ciel considered him carefully. “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me, isn’t it?”

            “You’re learning,” the man said with a wry smile.

            Ciel thought for a minute. “Okay,” he said eventually.

            “Okay?”

            “Three days.” He held up three corresponding fingers. “I will stay here for three days, and if I still think you’re a creep after that, I’m leaving.”

            “All right,” Sebastian agreed.

            “And I can leave any time before that, for any reason.”

            “Obviously.”

            “Okay.”

            “Okay,” Sebastian agreed. He walked around the kitchen counter and to the bar. “Beer?”


	4. Chapter 4

            “Will you be all right if I leave you here for the evening?” Sebastian asked. The afternoon was beginning to fade, and street lamps were beginning to reflect all along the Thames.

            Sebastian had donned a black suit, complete with gold buttons and a matching Albert chain. Ciel wondered if the man actually had a pocket watch, or if the chain was just for show. The outfit seemed awfully formal.

            “You’d trust me alone in your penthouse?”

            “Steal whatever you want.”

            “Seriously?”

            “Just leave the scotch – good scotch is so hard to find these days.”

            Ciel wasn’t sure if he was meant to laugh or not. He remained silent.

            “I’ll be back sometime before sunrise,” Sebastian continued. He took another sip of his beer before setting it down on the countertop. It was his fourth of the day.

            Sebastian was an alcoholic. Ciel was sure of this. Yet somehow, the man never seemed drunk - not even tipsy. His hands were perfectly steady and he held the bottle delicately, as if it were merely a cup of tea. A few drops of condensation soaked into the white fabric of his gloves.

            “Where are you going?” Ciel asked, curious.

            “I have a client,” Sebastian replied vaguely.

            “You mean like…”

            “A lady. I am escorting her to the theater this evening.”

            “The theater.”

            “Among other sundry locations.”

            “Meaning your bed.”

            “Her bed, more than likely. You ask an awful lot of questions for someone in the business.”

            Ciel felt his face grow warm. “I’ve only been in ‘the business,’” he said, making air quotes with his fingers, “for the past two weeks. And I don’t care what you do with your so-called client.”

            “Then why did you ask?”

            Ciel turned away, embarrassed. Maybe he _did_ care, he thought to himself, before quickly banishing the idea. Sebastian was at least, what? Ten years older than him? Twenty?

            “For all I know, you could pretend to leave, sneak up on me, and kill me,” he said, thinking quickly. Sebastian scoffed.

            “If I wanted to kill you, I’d have done it last night in that alley.”

            “I don’t know,” Ciel said with a frown. “You could be like the old witch in Hansel and Gretel.”

            Sebastian laughed. It was genuine, and his eyes crinkled up just the tiniest bit at the sides before resuming their normal, thoughtful gaze.

            “Luring beautiful young children into my home, feeding them delicious meals, then shoving them into the oven so I can feast upon their bones?”

Ciel’s lips twitched upward. He wouldn’t mind seeing that smile again, he thought. “No, you aren’t the witch,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t have any sweets.”

            “Alas,” Sebastian mock-sighed. “However will I lure children without sweets?”

“You need to improve your bait,” Ciel said. “Children love sweets.”

“Noted,” Sebastian said with a grin. He lifted his bottle and downed the rest of the beer. “I have to go, otherwise I’ll be late.”

            “All right.” Ciel leaned against the back of the sofa.

            “Promise you won’t go anywhere?”

            “Do I have anywhere else to go?”

            “True enough.” Sebastian grabbed his keycard from the countertop, placed it in his pocket, and turned to go. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

            Ciel nodded and watched him go, not taking his eyes off the black jacket until the man was out the door. The lock clicked shut. The boy took in a long, deep breath. The apartment suddenly seemed much larger, and nowhere near as inviting.

            Still, there was work to be done. He pushed himself off the couch, and with a last glance at the door to make sure his host was not returning, Ciel slunk down the hallway.

 

* * *

 

            Sebastian’s room was sparse and spartan. The only furniture was a tightly-made bed, a small dresser, and an ornately carved wooden armoire that seemed out of place. Ciel ran his fingertips over the black duvet. It was softer than it seemed.

            He decided to search the dresser first. There were no pictures or decorations on top, and inside the drawers he only found neatly folded clothes. With a scowl, he moved on to the armoire.

            Floral carvings ran along the length of it, and Ciel almost didn’t want to open it. This, somehow, seemed more of an invasion of privacy than going through Sebastian’s clothing. Nonetheless, he steeled himself and hooked a finger in one of the metal handles. He pulled gently on it, and when it didn’t open immediately, he pulled a little harder. The door gave way with a slight creak, and Ciel glanced behind him, heart racing, as if Sebastian would appear at any moment.

            No, he reminded himself; Sebastian was at the theater. He sighed, and opened the other door as well to let in some light.

            At first glance, the armoire seemed normal. Two suits hung from a bar which ran across the top, and two pairs of shoes sat perched at the bottom. There were three drawers on the left. Ciel opened the top one. A row of white gloves, identical to the ones Sebastian had worn tonight, lay neat and flat. He closed the drawer with a frown, and opened the middle one.

            A row of leather paddles laid there, as neatly arranged as the gloves had been. An empty space on the right suggested that one was missing. Ciel traced the handle of a simple black one on the left, before closing the drawer. So Sebastian was _that_ sort of ‘escort,’ Ciel thought.

            He should stop now, he knew. He was already betraying Sebastian’s trust by snooping around in his private things. Or was he? The man had invited him into his home. There was no possible way he could know what kind of person Ciel was. He closed his hand around the handle of the third drawer and opened it slowly.

            Two rows of knives glinted in the darkness. Most had matching handles, as if they had come from a kitchen set. Ciel spied a serrated bread knife, a carving knife, and even a carving fork. But most perplexing to him were the four knives in the front.

            He lifted one into the light and examined it carefully. There were no identifying marks. In fact, it was a perfectly ordinary butter knife, similar to the kind he had used at home.

            Ciel frowned. What kind of person kept butter knives in their bedroom? He carefully replaced the cutlery onto its crushed velvet bed, making sure it was facing the same way as the others.

            Mind racing, he headed back to the kitchen. He opened and shut three drawers before finding the silverware. There were butter knives here too, though they were different from the ones in the bedroom. In fact, the knives in this set had incredibly ornate handles, as if just for show.

            Ciel shut the drawer and crossed his arms. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was still very early. He resolved to question Sebastian once he got home. Would his host be angry that he had gone through his things? No, Ciel decided; there should be no secrets between them, especially if he was going to live with this man for any amount of time.

             Mind made up, he took one butter knife from the kitchen, and walked back to Sebastian’s bedroom. He opened the bottom drawer in the armoire and took a butter knife from there as well. He sat upon the soft black duvet and set the cutlery beside him. He settled in to wait.

 

* * *

  

            Ciel woke cocooned in a sea of black. The duvet had been carefully tucked in around him, and he had to tug at it to free himself. The butter knives were nowhere to be seen, and a trickle of sunlight streamed in under the door.

            He cursed to himself. How could he have possibly fallen asleep?

            Tiptoeing so as to not attract Sebastian’s attention, he crept to the armoire and opened it as quietly as he could. The bottom drawer slid open with a whisper. The knife was there, laying on its crushed velvet bed, as if it had never been moved.

            Ciel cursed again. He closed the armoire, moved to the door, and with a deep breath, he stepped into the hallway.

            “Sebastian?” he asked quietly. There was no response. He stepped somewhat guiltily into the living room. “Sebastian, I’m sorry I went through your things.”

            There was a light snore from the sofa. Ciel peeked over the back and saw a puff of sable hair. “Sebastian?” he whispered again. He moved around to the front of the sofa.

            The older man’s face was buried in the cushions. His shoulders rose and fell steadily, and he snored softly every few seconds. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, and one shoulder had fallen a few centimeters down his arm, exposing his shoulder blade. Something unfamiliar fluttered in Ciel’s chest.

            He looked around after a moment. The black suit jacket from last night was nowhere to be seen, so Ciel took the folded blanket from the arm of the couch – the blanket Sebastian had given him two nights ago– and draped it gently over the sleeping man.

            He walked back to the kitchen in search of breakfast.

            A bowl of sweets had been placed on the counter.


End file.
